


Dissolution

by Harlecat



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlecat/pseuds/Harlecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the very definition of bittersweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> She doesn't catch up with him.

PART ONE

_Nothing’s real until you let go completely_

_…_

_Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers_

_But I know it’s never really over_

_\- “Sober” by Kelly Clarkson_

* * *

 

“Okay, well, I’m off.” Her hand brushes against the doorknob.

“Is it something that talking to your dad won’t help?”

She turns back, surprised, smiling reassuringly. “Why do you ask?” Her father looks at her, and she laughs, feeling hollow. “Really, I just didn’t want to eat this morning.” He’s still looking at her. “That’s all.”

“After your mother’s funeral, it took some time before you were able to eat breakfast again too, right?”

Her smile fades. He rises and come to hold her, saying more words in a comforting tone, and she was surrounded by his faded shirt and the smell of safety. It did nothing for the chasm in her chest.

* * *

 

“Haruhi?”

She pauses in her anguish to look up from the ground in front of her, and meets two identical pairs of eyes. They look back and see a girl in a dirty white dress with messy hair. When last they saw her, she was crying out and racing away. She was a girl ferocious. Now she is a girl forlorn.

Kaoru’s eyes widen with understanding and Hikaru furrows his brow. “Where’s…” His brother puts his hand on his shoulder and he says nothing else. She looks back to the ground and keeps walking.

“Hey, wait up!”

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you lost the carriage,” Hikaru complains loudly. “How do you lose a carriage? And now we have to walk the whole way back?”

“Hikaru,” Kaoru says shortly.

“There were horses on that carriage,” he goes on. “Who’s gonna feed the horses? Huh? Tell me-”

“I’m sure the horses will be fine, Hikaru."

Haruhi hitches up her dress and walks faster.

* * *

 

Six people sat in a room, and ignored one of the empty chairs. Haruhi was on her knees rubbing dirt off her face.

_I wasn’t quick enough. Why wasn’t I fast enough? Why wasn’t I faster? Why couldn’t I catch him? Why couldn’t I- Why didn’t I- How could-_

“Haruhi,” Kyoya says, moving towards the window. “That’ll be enough.”

She looks up with cracks in her eyes, and he turns away. There is silence.

“So…” Honey starts. “What does that mean-”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Kyoya snaps. “We can’t offer the princely package anymore, that’s all there is to it.”

“But-”

“He’s right,” Haruhi said, standing up. “That’s… all there is to it, really.”

Honey turns to her with wide eyes.

“We don’t need Tamaki,” she said firmly, then looked down at herself. “Where’s my change of clothes?”

* * *

 

Haruhi doesn’t do anything anymore. She works to stay at Ouran. She works to stay a host. She does this because she likes Ouran, and likes being a host. She isn’t quite sure why. She can’t even remember what liking something is supposed to feel like. But she says she does, so she must like it.

Breakfast isn’t _really_ important, not if you aren’t hungry. She eats lunch and dinner because she knows she needs at least two meals, but she doesn’t want her breakfast. She just doesn’t.

She doesn’t understand things. Why people around her find joy in the simplest things. Why a trip to the supermarket is _fun_ or why saving cash is _great_. She tells herself it’s because all these dumb rich folk have rubbed off on her. She is wrong.

There are some things she doesn’t like to think about, like the fast-approaching end of the school year, like graduation. She doesn’t want the rest of the club to graduate, to be left in the dust with Hikaru and Kaoru. She wants to play house a little while longer.

The fair was a resounding success. The club has more guests than ever before. Hikaru looks at her with sparkling eyes and says, _“Hey, boss, what should we do with this leftover tea?”_

“Just pour it out.”

* * *

 

One day, to dramatic announcements and oohs from a crowd, the twins jump up on top of a table and announce to their guests that a long-awaited day has, finally, arrived. A crowd is gathered around one of the couches and Mori takes Haruhi by the shoulders, steers her over, and sits her down.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?!”

“Ladies and gentleman!” Hikaru cries out. “Our honored boss will now do what he has never done before! That’s _right!_ Haruhi Fujioka… _is going to eat some tuna!_ ”

_Oh, for hell’s sake…_

“It has been specially prepared by some of the finest chefs in the world!” he shouts, still standing on a table.

“Get off that table,” Haruhi says. “You’re going to fall over.”

“What? No _way_! It is fresh and chilled! It is _delicious_! And now, for the first time in your life, he is going to _eat it_! Honey! _Go get the tuna_!”

A girl raises her hand. “So… Haruhi’s never had tuna before?”

Kaoru shakes his head. “Not the fancy kinda, no. He eats commoner tuna.”

“Fun fact,” Hikaru calls out. “Haruhi _first_ joined this club because he owed us roughly… some money. How much was it, Kyoya?”

“Eight million yen, I believe.”

“Hikaru, I don’t want your tun-”

“Eight _million_ yen! Obviously, since he’s a commoner, he couldn’t pay. For awhile he was really fed up with everything and actually thought about quitting and working their debt off some other way, so we had to bribe Haruhi with fancy tuna to keep working!”

“And now Haru-chan’s the best host ever!” Honey marches over with a plate of tuna, sliced and arranged in a flower-like pattern. “Right, Haru-chan?”

“Look, guys-”

“And now that he won’t quit, we can give him his tuna! Kaoru! A drumroll!”

“Guys, I’m not actually hungry!”

Honey offers Haruhi a fork. “Here, Haru-chan!”

“Okay, okay, _fine._ ” She snatches the fork from him and spears a bite of tuna, then swallows it without even chewing.

“Nonono,” Hikaru turns to look at her. “You’re supposed to savor it.”

“ _Fine!”_ She takes another bite and chews, slowly and deliberately. “There, see? I’m _savoring_ it.”

“And?”

Haruhi paused, and swallowed “... And it tastes like it’s tuna.”

He stares at her.

“I don’t really see what the big deal is.”

 _“I think Haruhi’s in a bad mood today,”_ one of the guests whispers.

_“I think you’re right.”_

_“He’s been really bitter lately.”_

She forces a smile onto her face. “It’s not half bad, but it seems like regular tuna to me. I guess I just don’t see what all the fuss was about.”

After the business day has ended, Haruhi is packing her bags, when a voice interrupts her.

“Haruhi.”

She blinks, taking a little too long to realize she’s been spoken to. Then she grins and looks up.

“Oh, hey, Kyoya. I didn’t see you there.”

He stands with his hands on the back of a chair, without expression. The sunset shines in through the window and bounces off of his glasses, straight into Haruhi’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t take us for fools.”

“Huh?”

He looks at her and she can’t see his eyes, or what he’s thinking.

“I… don’t understand, senpai.”

She can’t tell if he’s looking at her.

“You once salivated at the very mention of tuna. Only an idiot could fail to notice the obvious change you’ve gone through.”

“I just have different priorities,” she says, rolling her eyes and shoving a textbook in her bag. “Besides, it tasted like normal, everyday tuna. There was nothing special about it!”

“But there was, Haruhi. I’ve tried your commoner’s tuna. There’s a clear difference. You failing to taste it is just another example of your change.”

“I _don’t know what you’re talking about_.”

“I spoke with your father recently. He says you aren’t eating breakfast.”

“Breakfast is overrated.”

“Hmph. If you say so. Well, remember to lock up.”

“Yeah.”

“And do take care of yourself, Haruhi.”

* * *

 

“I really thought it would work,” Hikaru shakes his head, his hair falling into his face.

“Me too,” Kaoru comforts him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t feel bad, Hika-chan.” Honey looks up with endearing eyes. “We all wanted Haruhi to feel better.”

* * *

 

Haruhi never realizes anything is wrong. One day she suddenly thinks of Tamaki, and it’s like her world has collapsed. She wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like, and if she is having one. She does not understand what is occurring. He slides into her head and it’s like heartburn, but a thousand times worse. She hates herself for thinking of him, and hates that she hates herself for that. And most of all she hates the aching inside of her. It’s always there, never gone, its dulls and sharpens, and it consumes her.

Until one day it doesn’t.

She doesn’t notice until even more time has passed, and he slips back into her thoughts, and that’s when she realizes, she’s eating her breakfast again, she isn’t thinking about him, and she sits for a good hour remembering the look on his face when they played hide and seek, and it’s like the bottom of her stomach has fallen out. It is that night it occurs to Haruhi that she isn’t thinking about him.

And then she hates herself for _not_ thinking about him. She hates herself for the way she’s forgotten to miss him, for the way she’s moved on. Until she stops.

It’s wretched that she can say she missed him, _past tense,_ and it’s wretched that she can feel relief at moving on. Wretched, wretched, wretched.

Fancy tuna is the _best thing in the world._

* * *

 

“How do you feel, Haruhi?”

“I feel fine.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Once they held hands on a cold park bench and now they do the same on the side of a bed, not meeting eyes and looking at the floor.

They do not feel the same but they understand. They are close enough. At this point they might always be. They are cursed with similarity, after all.

One thing they always had in common were their priorities. Their focus was always on the same person. It tended to be Hikaru. Not to say he was selfish, or arrogant, he just cared about himself a bit more than necessary. Kaoru also cared about him a bit more than necessary so it wasn’t much of an issue. When Haruhi came into the picture she became a new focus but the most important person to Kaoru was always Hikaru. Perhaps while he had learned to open himself up, all Kaoru did was forget to lock the doors.

He had watched while Hikaru blossomed, and if this had been spring, then the winter before had been cold. He had watched while Hikaru turned icy to anyone who spoke to him and the way he froze their fingertips. Yes, fall had been lovely, and spring had been bright, but the winter had been barren. And just what was this?

That wasn’t the point, though. There was no wondering what the hell life was supposed to be when it turns itself on it’s head and rights itself when you’ve started to prefer things this way. Kaoru understood. He knew Hikaru had loved his upside down world far more than Kaoru ever could. And he knew who had been responsible for that, who had pulled him outside and shoved him into the sunlight. It didn’t matter that he’d threatened to take it all away. What mattered was that he was _gone._

Hikaru never understood people, and he probably never would. But people understood him. Sometimes it seemed like figuring him was all too easy.

Once he had thought he needed only himself and someone like him. That only certain people had feelings that mattered and the world around him was dismal and and the people were just puppets of bone.

_Thank you._

He had been proven wrong.

But then, the world had to be a cruel place in the end. Tamaki left and Haruhi stopped smiling. Even Kyouya seemed a bit more bitter. And of course, with the disappearance of their high, mighty king came the loss of guests.

_Thanks a lot._

* * *

Kyouya had heard it said that you should be grateful for the time you have when you are happy. No matter how short, no matter how heartbroken you are when it ends, you should turn your eyes to the sky and thank the world for letting you have that one brief time. After all, that was more than some people had. Even if you only had a day. And God knows his few years was much, much more than the happiness many experienced. He also knew that things hadn’t quite ended, he still had his time in school, the club still remained, but it was clear that something was missing from everything.

But even when a picture isn’t complete, you should be grateful that you have it.

He had also heard that when you care about someone you ought to tell them before they’re gone, or else they might never know. You should tell them before it’s too late.

He disregarded both these things.

* * *

 

“You’re feeling sad too, aren’t you, Takashi?”

He nods from the ground below him and Honey swings his feet back and forth. “Me too. I’m sorry, Takashi.”

“S’okay.”

“No it isn’t. You don’t have to pretend to feel okay. You’re not trying to, are you?”

“I dunno. Don’t think so.”

“Good.” He pauses and looks out at the sky. “True strength is being yourself, you know.”

* * *

 

Business is business and business is _bad_. Oh, it’s not _awful_ , no, it’s not really that bad, but it’s just not as good. A variable is missing from her equation and without the princely type things just aren’t proper.

Renge’s first order of business is to see if Kyouya or Haruhi can be trained to take his place, but Haruhi is too red in the face and Kyouya lets off the aura of a shark disguised as a dolphin. Mori doesn’t talk enough. Honey is too young. She’d try to swap Hikaru over, but he’s too rude, and Kaoru is too quiet, and if they get split up then half their charm disappears. Honestly, those two are joined at the hip. She’s spoken to them when the other’s not around, and it’s the most insane experience she’s ever had. They pause midway through their sentences and tell jokes that aren’t funny.

When business is bad, though, nothing is that funny.

* * *

 

If there is fulfillment, then there is also unfulfillment. It is logic.

There is walking down the hall and seeing him smile more at her than you, even when he doesn’t mean it. There is the feeling in your gut when your voice rises, exhilarating, and consuming, and a monster inside of you. There’s the look on his face when you snap.

He takes everything you say to him like a knife to the back. He takes it all in stride, but his eyes cave in. And still, he smiles. He takes it all in smiles. You envy that.

There is something romantic about him, and you realize now that’s all there is. He’s nothing but a romantic story and a passing notion. You try to take the time to know him but underneath the charm is a child, a toddler even, perhaps even a loyal dog. He runs around for love and scratches under the chin, he wants his dessert, and he wants attention, and when you snap, he doesn’t dare bark, he only whimpers.

For awhile, it is amusing. And then you begin to hate him. You can’t look at him without seeing him as he is at other times. When he looks ready to cry, you think of his always present smile and begin to get irritated. When he laughs, you remember when he was near tears and want to scream. He’s never the right mood for you. A ring that’s the wrong color.

Get him out, you think, when he enters the room. Get _me_ out.

Soon you can’t stand him. You start pretending to be sick, and when that gets tedious, you actually sneak out of your home.

You’ve reeled him in, you tell yourself. If you don’t want it, throw him back in the water.

You are unfulfilled.

You seethe.

You break things off because if you don’t do it soon, you’ll break him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I'm the opposite of consistent with updating this piece.

France’s most prominent businessman strode down the hallways of his old school and tried his hardest not to remember anything about it. He wanted to, but nothing in the world could make him want those feelings that would come along with it.

It is the very definition of bittersweet.

Hard heels clicked against shining floors and he made his way through the building. He wasn’t sure where he was going, he knew exactly what it was he was looking for, and he did his best to keep his eyes ahead of him. His biggest fear was that he’d be spotted, recognized, and be pulled into a conversation with an old classmate, one that would last too long and hurt too much. He’d gotten used to the kind of conversations that required fake smiles, though, so he’s sure he could manage.

 _Look directly in front of you and keep your shoulders back, speak to no one, and get it through with_ … _And if he won’t speak to me?... Then I won’t speak to him. No, I’ll demand to speak to him. Will I? What should-_

The faint sound of chatter stopped him suddenly and he went alert, prepared to duck around a corner or hide his face with a folder. But no one seemed to be headed his way. In fact, the sound was rather stationary, a hum in the distance. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it already. Where on earth could _that_ be coming from?

He had entertained the notion of returning to that same room. It had meant a lot to him, after all. But he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to bear the unused chairs, curtainless windows, and covered piano. He’d closed his eyes on his plane and imagined his beloved room empty and lonely and sad, and in his mind, he’d painted such a picture he’d convinced himself he would not need to enter. He could already see the sunlight streaming in and feel the chill in the shadows, he did not need to experience it again. He did not need to torture himself that way.

_Get in, get out. And if he won’t speak to me?_

* * *

 

He pauses on one side of the open door, next to a sign that says ‘ _open’._ He freezes and stands at an angle, tilting his head slightly to see inside.

 _There are_ people _in there_. And they’re _talking._ What the hell is going on?

A figure moves and he jumps back, rushing to get out of sight. He recognized them. Him. That was Kyouya.

Was the club still _meeting_?

He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel. Fireworks were going off in his chest and he couldn’t tell if he was pained or overjoyed. But how he felt didn’t matter. His feet ached to move and his body begged to walk in. He wanted to drop into a chair and say hello to the women there, he wanted to laugh and play, to see his family. He wanted to play house.

“Hey, boss!”

He jumped and he almost reacted. He started to form the words _“yeah, what is it now”_ , and he opened his mouth halfway.

“We’ve got some empty teapots!”

Hikaru’s voice was loud, intrusive, and one of the most beautiful things Tamaki had ever heard. He couldn’t hear the response. He took a step towards the door.

“No, we’re all out.”

_He wasn’t speaking to me._

_They probably don’t want to see me, anyway._

He tightened his grip on his briefcase and moved by as quickly as he could, praying that no one turned and saw him. His prayers were answered.

* * *

 

 _But won’t he be in there?_ Better not disturb them when they were in business. He would have to come back later.

Tamaki returned after he knew they would be done with their business for the day. Sure enough, the sign outside the door said they were closed. He put his hand on the door knob and turned, feeling the door click open. So it wasn’t locked. He took in a deep breath.

He couldn’t.

He let go and stumbled backwards, staring at the door. It was just a door. There was no _particular_ reason to be scared of it.

 _What if they hate me?_ He covered his mouth, eyes wide. _What if they hate me and look at me like they want me dead? Or what if they don’t say anything and act normal but they_ secretly _hate me and can’t believe I’m there and after I leave they talk about how stupid I am and they all laugh at me and what if they don’t even wait for me to leave or what if they yell at me oh god oh god I can’t I can’t I-_

“Tamaki?”

He snapped out of his mute horror, and must have jumped at least a meter into the air. He turned to stare in the direction the voice had come from and almost stumbled back again when he met the cool, dark eyes of Kyouya Ootori.

“Kyouya?”

They looked at each other, not speaking. There was no noise. Kyouya stood straight and tall, a bag clenched in his right hand. Tamaki’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces and then stitched itself back together.

“What are you doing here?”

“Quoi?” Tamaki started. “Bah, ben!” His hand moved to the back of his hair. He laughed awkwardly and pulled some strands from his shirt collar. “Tu vois- Je viens”

“You’re speaking French.”

“I’m speaking… I’m speaking French! Sorry. It’s good to see you!” He smiled hopefully at Kyouya, who remained still. “Right. Um… I’m supposed to meet with the backer of the Ootori company… you’re-”

“I’m the backer of the Ootori company.”

“Yeah! Right… so… I’m here… to meet… with you… uh… should we-”

Kyouya pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Tamaki could no longer see his eyes.

“If you want to speak with me, you’ll have to make an appointment.”

“An… appoint-”

“I would be glad to meet with you now, however, I have business to attend to. Good day.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the doors. Tamaki blinked and lunged forward, grabbing onto his sleeve.

“Kyouya-”

He staggered after him into Music Room number three. Kyouya wrenched his hand away and he landed unsteadily on his right leg, pinwheeling his arms before straightening himself. Kyouya glared at him. Tamaki blinked again. There was a flash of white, and he was flat against the door, his cheek stinging. Kyouya lowered the hand he’d struck him with.

“I told you, make an appointment,” he said, and Tamaki swore he heard hostility underneath his calm, flat voice.

“I- sorry, I- I-”

_“Btamaki?”_

He froze and turned to look across the room, at the couches, where Hikaru, Kaoru, Mori, and Honey were all sitting, staring at him. It had been Hikaru had spoken. It took Tamaki a full minute to realize Hikaru had almost called him _boss,_ and he still hadn’t said anything in response.

“... Hello…” he began, lifting his hand in a limp wave and letting it fall.

Kyouya started towards them. “Still not back?”

“No,” Hikaru said.

“Hmm.”

_“Tama-chan!”_

Tamaki let out an _oof_ as a small, blue colored blur collided with his midsection. A weak laugh escaped him. “Honey! It’s good to see you!”

“We missed you! Even Usa-chan!”

“Well, Usa-chan, I missed you too!”

Kyouya set down his bag and opened the curtains over the windows, and Tamaki could hear the storm outside. He hadn’t known that rain had started.

“Four letter word for sheep,” Kaoru said. There was a book on his lap. “It’s English.”

“Easy,” Kyouya snapped, without looking away from the window. “Lamb.”

Hikaru frowned. “But-”

“There’s a _b._ It’s silent.”

“Right.”

Kyouya muttered something and looked out at the window.

“Soo,” Hikaru said a little awkwardly. “How’s… France, then?”

“France?” Tamaki said. “Oh. It’s… good.”

“French?”

“Yes. It’s that.”

There came a pregnant pause, during which Tamaki felt ridiculed, and rather like he’d fallen into a room full of people who’d just been busy discussing how much they hated him. For all he knew, they had been.

“Do you want some tea?” Honey asked.

“Don’t offer him tea,” Kyouya said. Tamaki couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

Hikaru must’ve noticed, because he promptly informed Tamaki, “We’re out of tea.”

“Ah.”

Kyouya turned sharply to look at them. “When did the rain start, again?”

“Around five, I think.”

“She might’ve just headed home,” Kaoru suggested.

“No, she said she’d drop it off before.”

“But the weather-”

“What time did she leave?”

“Four thirty.”

“And now?”

“It’s almost half past five.”

“Hmm. It’s not the longest it’s taken her.”

“She’s usually pretty efficient,” Hikaru said.

“But it’s raining. She should be back soon.” Kyouya picked the bag up off the floor and started to look through it, finally pulling out whatever he’d been searching for. He tucked it into his jacket before Tamaki could see what it was, and went back to looking out the window. There came some more silence.

Tamaki cleared his throat. “Eh… Kyouya… If you’re not busy I really do need to talk business with you, if you could-”

“There.” He turned on his heel and walked purposefully toward the door. It shut loudly behind him.

“... That’s fine.”

“Hey,” Hikaru said. “Since you’re in France, have you seen your mom?”

“Huh? Oh, yes!” Tamaki grinned. “I’m a little busy, but we have lunch together once a week!”

“Really? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, it really is.”

“And how’s what’s-her-face?”

“Oh,” Tamaki said. “Eclair?”

“Yeah,” Hikaru said. “The pastry!”

“She’s alright, I suppose. We don’t see much of each other.”

“You married yet?”

“No, she actually broke off our engagement, I-” Tamaki paused. Kaoru had suddenly looked up from his crossword puzzle, straightened his back, and was staring at the door with realization in his eyes.

“Hikaru, Mori.”

Hikaru broke eye contact with Tamaki and looked over at him.

“The teapot,” Mori said. He rose.

“I’ve got the china,” Hikaru said, and also stood up.

“Vases,” Kaoru said. “Honey, chairs.”

“Where should I move them?”

“Put them as far from the door as possible,” Hikaru said.

“And the center of the room,” Kaoru added, stuffing a vase under his arm and moving to set it down by the foot of the couch. “Tamaki, can you move my backpack?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” He picked it up. "Where do I..."

“But don’t make it look like you moved them,” Kaoru finished instructing Honey. Hikaru began to collect teacups and china from the tables. “Can you just toss it in the center?”

“Of… the couches?”

“Yeah, anywhere by the table.”

“Hey,” Hikaru said. “Help me with the china, will you?”

Tamaki, not knowing why Hikaru would ask him for help, pointed to himself to clarify. Hikaru raised his eyebrows as if to say, _I’m looking at you, aren’t I?_ and Tamaki went to help him gather up the china from the tables around the room and relocate them to the table by the couches. He had absolutely no idea what they were doing.

“Um,” he said, as Honey dragged a chair to the corner of the room, decided that was too obvious, and brought it halfway back. “What exactly are you-”

Honey shushed him. “Can you hear them?”

Kaoru frowned. There was silence.

“Yes. They’re outside.”

He grabbed Tamaki by the sleeve and dragged him back over to the couches. “Sit,” Hikaru instructed, and Tamaki practically fell down onto the couch. Kaoru and Hikaru sat down next to each other, and Mori and Honey did the same. Kaoru picked his puzzle back up.

“End of the sky,” he said. “English?” Kyouya’s calm voice seeped in front outside.

“Horizon,” Tamaki said. Kaoru nodded and filled it in. Hikaru picked up on the cups from the table, looked at it, then put it back. A low voice answered Kyouya. It sounded like they were listening to two people standing above water, while they themselves were drowning. Their voices were faint, blurred whispers.

The low voice spoke again, and Kaoru raised his eyes to search the room.

“Damn,” he said. “I missed one.”

“I’ll get it!” Honey offered, and leapt up to retrieve a vase from one of the tables across the room. He nearly knocked it over in his haste, but brought it over to their table safely before sitting back down. Why on Earth were they doing this?

He was suddenly reminded.

“Hey,” Tamaki said. “How’s… Har-”

_“I already told you, I’m fine!”_

The door to the music room burst open and in swept the very person on Tamaki’s mind, someone he often tried not to think of. Haruhi came in like a storm, wild, reckless, full of energy, and emanating fury.

“... Haruhi?”

Kyouya came in after, ominous, rather like bad weather, but nothing compared to the anger in Haruhi’s eyes. She brushed by the group like it was nonexistent and went to shut the curtains and Kyouya followed after.

“I’ll have you know I went to a lot of effort to go these for you,” he said coldly, and Tamaki could see a bottle in Haruhi’s hand.

“That’s hardly my fault!” she yelled.

Hikaru pulled a textbook out of his backpack. “What was the reading again?”

“Chapter twelve,” Kaoru told him. “Take notes. Equivalent of stupidity?”

“Tamaki.”

“Won’t fit.”

“I dunno,” Hikaru flipped through the pages. “Idiocy? Have any paper?”

Kaoru gave him some paper, then a pencil, and Hikaru put on some headphones and proceeded to do his homework.

“I wouldn’t have asked for any!”

“No, I don’t think you would’ve,” Kyouya said coolly. “You have too much pride to do that.”

“Oh, _I’m_ proud?”

“Haruhi, I do have a responsibility to take care of-”

“No, you _don’t_ -”

“So I have to implore you to accept those, and to use them correctly-”

“I don’t need any _damn_ pills!” she shouted.

“You need to take some action before this becomes a serious problem!”

“Are you saying _I’m_ a problem or that I _have_ a problem?”

“I’m saying you need to do something before _either_ of those things are true!”

 _“I don’t have a problem!_ ” she screamed. “Why don’t you just _leave me be_?”

“Your father’s asked me to _take care of you_!”

“So you’re giving me _drugs_?”

“They’re _medication_!”

“They’re _stupid_ , is what they are!”

“They cost more than your entire house!”

 _“Everything in this room costs more than my entire house, and I wish you’d stop reminding me_!”

“You need to do something before you jump off a bridge again!”

Haruhi glared at him, looking mildly offended, before screaming, _“I fell!”_

“Just _take the pills_ and stop _screaming_ at me before your situation gets any worse!”

Haruhi started fumbling with the bottle in her hands. Her hands were shaking.

“For example,” Kyouya said, “You could start thinking your actions through.”

“I’m sick of your damn meddling!” She exhaled sharply and stretched out her hand before managing to get the lid off. “This is what I think of your _goddamn pills!”_

She emptied the bottle onto the floor. Kyouya sighed in disappointment and, as if he’d expected this, pulled another bottle out of his coat.

Oh. Of course he’d expected it.

Haruhi let out a furious and exasperated scream, and through the empty bottle at his head. It hit him and bounced onto the ground. She screamed again.

Everyone had expected Haruhi to do this. That’s why they’d moved everything away. They were taking away her arsenal.

Haruhi composed herself and extended a hand. “Hikaru! Give me something to throw!”

Hikaru, who’d clearly heard her, made a show of moving his head back and forth to whatever music was playing on his phone.

 _“Hikaru_!”

“Huh? Did you say something?”

Haruhi whirled towards him. “I said-”

She locked eyes with Tamaki. The room’s aura went from angry to terrified.

Haruhi let out a stuttering sound that Tamaki could not decipher and, without meaning to, he stood up. They did not break eye contact.

“Tamak-”

“Haruhi?”

Kyouya, seeing a golden opportunity, stepped forward and slipped the bottle into her pocket.

She did not notice.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it isn't clear, the general idea is Haruhi didn't make it to the bridge in time to stop Tamaki and he is no longer in Japan. I feel like "Sober" by Kelly Clarkson is a nice companion to this. There will be a few more chapters (hopefully), and I hope you enjoyed!


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